iluvbuckets

[iluvbuckets]

let it grow let it grow you can’t reap what you don’t sow plant a seed inside the earth just one way to know its worth let’s celebrate the world’s rebirth WE SAY LET IT GROW

yalls favorite author is in my dms rn yapping about the lorax.

just so yk

[iluvbuckets]

single handedly cured my splitting migraine

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER NINE

content: language, maga barbie (VERY derogatory), use of a homophobic slur, blood, violence, injury (holy shit is this a wbb fanfiction or the terminator), the inherent homoeroticism of applying kinesiology tape to each other's injuries, chris koclanes finally not sucking complete ass at his job, baby's second ejection and first fist fight 🥹, the girls are arguing!!! the girls are...oh, wow. what ARE the girls doing? 😏, colette roman (affectionate), NO MORE NON SEXUAL EDGING, paige pov is kinda short here 😞, not proofread bc im lazy and i wrote too much

wc: 14.0k

notes: happy belated bday to @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers and happy birthday to my goat @snoopybuckets89 😋 i wanted to get this out on friday but i was in the trenches so here we areeee. if there's anything you take from me, it should be the advice to never take three major requirement courses over the summer term, especially if they're sciences and math. you will want to kill yourself. choose peace. i am hoping to have a much more consistent upload schedule as i go into the fall term but until then i appreciate the patience and support and as always i hope y'all enjoy and lmk what you think 🫶

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog @sillystarv @middyprincess @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers @user1269 @fivest4rbuecks @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @lilpaigeyherbo @simp4panos @perksofbeingatrex @lilambrh

CAM

The Wings, strangely enough, win three out of their next four games.

Following their loss to Atlanta, they were scheduled to take on the Golden State Valkyries at home, Connecticut and Washington on the road, and return home for their game versus Atlanta. Cam was willing to put the loss to the Aces on the backburner, preferring to look forward, but the one thing that she just wasn’t able to ignore was the way Chris stared straight through her as though she wasn’t there at all and ignored every one of her pleas for a challenge.

It was the complete lack of trust – no, the complete lack of respect for her as a player and as a leader on the team, for him to watch her beg like that and do nothing about it. If the only response she got from him was a head shake, she probably would have been happier with that as compared to him behaving as if the issue wasn’t there at all.

That situation was one of the reasons why the Wings had sought to extend her contract after the 2024 season. They wanted a veteran, a seasoned leader, someone who would keep the players - old and new – together while they figured out their new identity in the league. The front office wanted her to return for the 2025 season not only because she was the kind of player who was dominant on both ends of the court, but also because she was going to be the one with the experience and capabilities to take a new, young team and keep them together throughout the season.

It worked a little too effectively, Cam thinks, because the players were unified. There was never going to be an issue with that. They quickly became amazing friends off the court and the locker room was always full of laughs or pregame pep talks to energize them. The issue was with Chris, who’d been losing the locker room steadily over the last few weeks.

It started with his silence – the way he’d linger on the sidelines during practices, never really saying much but expecting them to figure it out, anyways. It progressed in how he never seemed to know what he was game planning; Cam wholeheartedly believed that you could give a toddler a clipboard and they could draw up something better than he could. 

It all culminated in how he refused to pull Paige out of the game after she went down with her concussion. How he told Cam that she was abusing her power as a leader because she was the only one who knew Paige well enough to recognize that she wasn’t okay. How he stared straight through her when she was at risk of fouling out and the Wings were moments away from losing a game they should have won if they had a coach who trusted his players and knew how to close out fourth quarters.

It’s early in the season. Cam knows that. They have a lot of growing to do as a team but if Curt or anyone else in the organization opened their eyes and looked a little further, they would realize that Chris has no place coaching this team.

There was one bright side, though. With both Ty and Maddy set to miss huge chunks of the season due to knee injuries and Teaira’s contract being suspended due to EuroBasket, the Wings needed to sign people, and quickly.

Help came in the form of Li Yueru, a 6’7 Chinese center. The Wings traded a second and a third round pick for her and she was available in time for their game against the Valkyries. She was probably the sweetest person Cam has ever met in her life, and she was excited to play with her.

The icing on the cake? Signing Haley Jones on a hardship contract. Cam and Haley had played together at Stanford for a few years and aside from DiJonai, Haley was probably one of Cam’s favorite people. She was selected 6th overall in the 2023 draft to the Dream. Cam, obviously, attended that draft, and she was genuinely over the moon for Haley. Now that they’re reunited, even if for a short time, Cam is stoked to be playing with her again.

Even though both Haley and Li were signed at roughly the same time, only Li gets a few minutes during their game against the Valkyries. Cam has learned by now that questioning Chris is a pastime that causes brain bleeds, but they took a surprising win over the Valkyries, anyhow. It was clear that their scouting report had been aimed at shutting down Paige. They weren’t successful in shutting down Paige, but they were even less successful in managing the other players on their roster.

Cam had a quiet fifteen points that night, a few boards, and a handful of stocks, but the win was especially sweet after the Vegas game.

Following the home game win versus the Valkyries, they had two back to back road games: one against the Sun, and one against the Mystics. The Sun game was close – too close, and Tina Charles was electric the entire time. They managed to scrape by with the win and Cam had thirteen points. It wasn’t a lot by any means but she was efficient.

The game against the Mystics, though? That one was frustrating. Cam doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many fouls be called in her life. Somehow, the calls were both nonsensical and many went missed (shocking). Paige hit a clutch three pointer off of an assist from Cam to send the game into overtime, but they fell short in the last seconds because someone seemingly forgot that Sonia Citron had been hot from three all game and someone forgot to guard her.

As if losing to the Mystics in overtime like that wasn’t punishment enough, they were hosting the Dream at home. They were 10-5 and at the top of the league and should have been one of the harder teams they’d faced in the last week or two.

Except, somehow, they beat Atlanta. Arike had an efficient 21 points, Cam had a quiet 10, but Li had a legacy game. She was dominant in the paint and defensively, notching a 10 point, 15 rebound double double with a steal.

Morale was high after winning three of their last four games. They were hoping to carry that over as their next one, on June 27th, was a home game (in the Mavericks’ arena, so…as much of a home game as they could get) against the Fever.

Cam has nothing against the Fever. Not in a way she could adequately express without a man getting triggered in an Instagram comment section somewhere. They defended in a way that was borderline chaos and dangerous, easily fouled someone on every defensive possession (even if it was never called), and Cam just really, really hates their entire underdog gimmick and perpetual victim mentality.

More than that, Cam just really, really fucking hates Sophie Cunningham, too.

She’s not one predisposed for hate, especially not hate directed at another woman in the league, but there were just so many things Cam didn’t like about Cunningham. She hates her botched extensions, the way she evidently has no control over her elbows considering she’d once hit Cam hard enough in the ribs last season to leave her with a nasty bruise for three weeks, and she hates how Sophie and people like her in general quietly and “discreetly” feed into the disrespect and animosity that’s been slowly growing in the league.

But, either way, Cam isn’t a dirty player. She wouldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way of playing a good game, even if her personal feelings on the matter were objectively the correct feelings to have.

Her game day routine doesn’t change with a different game day arena: she goes on a light run in the morning, has a productive conversation with Bobby and Gatsby regarding treats and toys, and dutifully responds to the text messages from her mom, who’s still apologizing for what happened at dinner with her dad.

Truth be told, Cam’s over it. Not over it in the sense that she’s not unhappy about it, but over it in the sense that she’s just so fucking exhausted with all of it that she’s not dedicating any time or energy to thinking about it or losing sleep over whether or not her father actually loves her for more than her trophies or her accolades.

Watching him behave that way in front of not only her mother, but her sister, too, and Paige of all people kind of solidified that for her. She��s been chasing after his affection and pride for so many years of her life, and seeing that he truly felt no remorse for embarrassing her at dinner? It made her really question why she’s doing this. There may always be some part of her that wants and craves a relationship with her father like that, but she doesn’t want it if this is what she has to go through to be accepted. 

There were so many people who were proud of her and cared for her regardless. Who did so unconditionally. Paige and DiJonai tell her that constantly. Cam tells herself that constantly. 

Dinner was eye opening, though. And letting go – or getting more comfortable with the idea of letting go – of the lingering need and desire to be understood by her father feels more feasible as the days go by.

With her mother’s message taken care of, she glances once at her and her father’s text thread. She doesn’t click on, but his last message to her displays, then cuts off due to the character limit. Without thinking too hard about it, she holds down on the thread and promptly hits Delete.

She opens Coley’s message next, who apparently thrives off of attention like water. She’d texted Cam earlier in the week asking if she had the time and energy to host her so she could come watch their game against the Fever. Cam, obviously, said yes, because she can’t fathom the amount of times she’s found herself on Coley’s couch in Florida to be able to watch her play with her team. There’s three text messages waiting for her:

Colette: Thoughts on mom’s carbonara for dinner tonight??? Colette: You should invite your girlfriend btw. So I can do the whole “if you hurt her” thing Colette: I’ve always wanted to do that but you’re always too “busy” and “locked in” for love

Cam can’t help her smile, holding back an eye roll as she taps out her message.

Cam: Yes on carbonara. Get the good guanciale Cam: She is not my girlfriend but I will ask if she’s available Cam: You also don’t have a love life. Where’s your ring Coley???

Coley doesn’t bother with actual responses. She reacts to Cam’s first message with a thumbs up, the second with an aged Sure, Jan gif, and replies to the last message with a selfie of her, the trophy from her recent pro volleyball federation title, and the glinting ring on her finger.

Cam snickers, but has no true response, so she sends Coley a brief Have a safe flight, see you soon! message and grabs her duffel bag, leaving her apartment to drive to the arena for shootaround.

The least surprising thing all day is the iced chai latte that she finds waiting for her in the locker room as she dresses down for practice. On the court, the team is already knocking down warm up shots or stretching. She spots Paige immediately, who’s on the sidelines with the trainer as they work through targeted exercises to help with her knee.

Paige seems to sense that she’s walked in at the same time, too, as she looks up instantly, meeting Cam’s eyes. She lights up with a smile that only seems to soften when she spots the latte she’s holding.

But then the trainer is waving a hand in her face and Paige finally breaks eye contact to smile sheepishly, her cheeks a little red. Cam just rolls her eyes, unable to hide the fondness, and she locates a resistance band to work through her warm ups. Shootaround ends quickly, and the brief rest period they have before they have to be back at the arena for the tunnel and warmups passes in the blink of an eye.

Even though the spectators have not been allowed into the arena yet, the energy on the court is palpable. Cam can feel the bass of whatever Drake song is playing in her bones. She can feel the anxious, if not slightly anticipatory hum of adrenaline in the air.

After a few years of doing this, Cam doesn’t really feel the nerves anymore. She’s confident in her capabilities, in the work that she and her team have put in to get here, and slightly comforted in the knowledge that at 4-12, they’re probably not making a playoff push – not unless Chris suddenly realizes that he cares enough to genuinely coach.

The one thing that doesn’t disappear, no matter how long she’s been playing, is the anticipation. She’s not nervous to play in front of a crowd. She’s not nervous to play against a team that’s going to make every bucket difficult, not necessarily because they’re good defenders but because they’ve pushed their luck and know what less than legal contact they can get away with.

It’s more of a natural understanding that comes with playing the game. Cam was raised around the central principle that everything meant something. She never did anything halfway because if she wasn’t giving her all no matter what, then was there truly a point? It was the knowledge that they had a job to do, a game to win, and that this moment was everything they’d spent hours practicing for, even more hours watching film for, and all she could think about was getting the ball in her hands and letting the rhythm of the game take over.

Cam loses herself in warmups, alternating between her weakest spots on the floor and gingerly stretching out her wrist as she shoots. Her right wrist had been giving her a little bit of grief over the last few games. She figures it’s probably usage – her minutes overall are up significantly this year, even including the games where she played less because she was coming off the bench for DiJonai. She ices after games, does her stretches and old PT exercises before bed, but it’s an ache she won’t be able to get rid of unless she gets a break.

She’s not ignoring it. She’s not pushing herself to the point of failure or reinjury. She’s…in tune with herself and is trying to manage the situation without escalation. The Wings didn’t exactly have a lot of people to fall back on. DiJonai was out with a rib injury, Ty and Maddy with their knees, and Chris, for whatever reason, was being stingy with Haley’s minutes. They didn’t quite have the personnel to adjust if she needed a few games worth of rest, and she was fine. Really. Her wrist is just one of those aches that never goes away – much like Paige’s knee.

Just as she’s stepping back into her spot again, palming the ball between her hands, she feels a soft presence behind her. Cam turns to find Paige holding a roll of kinesiology tape with a sheepish smile. “Allison’s busy with Rike,” she says. “Can you help me with my tape?”

Cam smiles knowingly at her, already reaching for the material. Paige meanders over to one of the courtside seats and sits down gingerly. “You’re trusting me with this after what happened last time?” she jokes, referring to the first time she wrapped Paige’s knee and how the blonde had complained that it was too tight. She tries not to think too hard about how she’d also kissed Paige’s knee like she could make it hurt any less with some affection, but the thought rolls in uninvited, anyways.

Paige shrugs, rolling up the leg of her sweatpants. Her grin is teasing as she retorts, “Only one way for you to learn, right? Who else is gonna tape my knee when Allison’s not around?”

“Hmm,” Cam hums noncommittally, stretching out the tape until it’s the desired length, then she begins to gently stick it to Paige’s knee. She pays attention to the sensitive spots that Paige had pointed out to her last time, making sure it’s tight enough to offer her relief. “It is your knee, after all. Maybe you can put on those big girl pants of yours and start taping it yourself.”

“Hey!” Paige admonishes, nudging Cam with her foot. She swats it away with a laugh as she stretches out another piece of tape, pressing her fingers against Paige’s knee. “It’s your veteran duty.”

“Yeah?” Cam goads. “I’m contractually obligated to tape your knee like your personal physician?”

“Yes,” Paige deadpans, completely serious. “Very important business, you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“This knee is precious cargo,” Paige continues, her tone flippant. “Got me drafted.”

Cam has half a mind to tell her that she probably got drafted for a lot of other reasons that didn’t include a medically replaced ACL, but she decides to let Paige hold onto that delusion of hers if it makes her feel better.

She smooths her hand across Paige’s knee, making sure the tape is fully connected to her skin and nothing is sticking out. “Good?” Cam asks. “Tighter, looser?”

“Perfect,” Paige confirms, but when Cam looks up, Paige’s eyes haven’t left her face. She wills back her blush as she rises from her knees, joints cracking in relief. “How’s your wrist? Saw you’ve been touching it lately.”

“It’s…” Cam trails off, genuinely not knowing if she was planning on deflecting or telling the truth. She watches Paige’s brow raise in silent question and she sighs. “It’s a little sore,” she admits, and Paige’s features soften like she was expecting that answer. “Like I’m just constantly aware of it now. It’s probably just ‘cause my minutes are up.”

“You been icing?” Paige asks.

“Have you?” Cam retorts. Paige just smiles because she knows the both of them have been icing, that they’ve been taking care of their respective injuries. She also seems to know that the pain isn’t something you can control most of the time.

Paige reaches out tentatively, her fingers wrapping loosely around Cam’s healthy hand, gently tugging her towards the bench. “Lemme wrap your wrist,” she says softly. Her tone leaves no room for argument. “Return the favor and allat.”

Cam’s lips twitch into a smirk as she allows herself to be dragged. She settles onto the chair next to Paige, holding out her hand for her to cradle. “You ever taped someone’s wrist before?”

Paige shrugs, her tongue poking out in concentration as she stretches out a piece of tap carefully. “Nah. First time for everything, right?” Cam’s smirk softens, turning tender. She stares unwaveringly while Paige adjusts her fingers, forcing her to relax her hand, and she begins applying the kinesiology tape deliberately to her thumb and wrist area. Her fingers are warm against her skin. Cam tries really hard to ignore how nice it feels – the gentle touch that’s more out of care and fondness than it is out of clinical professionalism. 

She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to break the easy silence, but also because she can feel her voice trapped in her throat. Paige takes care of her in all facets of the word. She checks in on her during games and defies their coach to run a play with her to get her head back in the game. She never pushes Cam for anything more than she’s willing to give. Paige is steady, the kind of person she wasn’t expecting to ever meet, let alone fall so deeply for. 

It’s not that Cam doesn’t want her. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. There’s no faking or confusing what they have – what Cam feels for her, but the issue is it feels too good. Too right. Too much like something Cam would be devastated if she lost or couldn’t fully protect. She hates that her fear of losing Paige outweighs her want to ever try in the first place. 

She’s been trying her entire life. Cam wasn’t immediately good at basketball – it took her weeks of practice to even get the ball through the net, although that became an easier task after a few growth spurts. She wasn’t immediately good at being a leader. It took a lot of trial and error and even more hours worth of learning the different ways people respond to certain approaches.

Recently, she’s starting to think that she might not immediately be good at this. At letting Paige in, at letting her care for her in the way she wants to. She might not be a professional in knowing what she’s supposed to do or say next or even a professional in how to be a good girlfriend. She wouldn’t be good immediately, but the right person would be willing to stick around and try.

Cam glances at Paige, whose fingers are pressing into her skin with something akin to reverence, making sure the tape would stay on throughout the game. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, clearly pleased with her work, but the last thing on Cam’s mind is the tape. 

This is a terrible venue to have such earth shattering revelations – sitting courtside in the American Airlines Center while their teammates warm up around them, but it’s in that moment, in the uncomfortable chair, with the warmth of Paige’s body next to hers, that Cam realizes she wants to try. Like, she really, really does.

If she spent her entire life being afraid of losing then she’d never give her the chance to prove herself or anyone else otherwise. If she spent her entire life being scared of what would happen if she and Paige never worked out, then she would never know what it would be like to have her, even if it was just for a short time.

She wants Paige. She wants a relationship with Paige – a real one. The kind where she sets out a mug for Paige when she comes over to give Cam a ride to practice, when Paige doesn’t even use the mug because she’s not a big on coffee early in the morning and she’s content with stealing a few sips from Cam’s tea, even if she complains that it could use some more honey. The kind of relationship where Paige teaches herself to drive with her left hand just so she can hold onto Cam, always a little bit of a clinger, but that wouldn’t bother Cam because she would refuse to let go for the entire ride.

She wants her. And Cam is tired of pretending like all of the excuses she’d made, all of the reasons why she told Paige they couldn’t, weren’t just walls she’d put up to save herself the heartbreak. She has spent so many years of her life talking herself out of opportunities because she thought she could never be good enough for them, but now? This isn’t something she wants to talk herself out of. Paige isn’t something she wants to talk herself out of.

She’s enough for Paige. Not too much or too little. Paige wants her as she comes – for all of her flaws, her victories, every piece of her that makes her Cam Roman. Cam thinks that she and Paige may always be just a little of what the other needs.

Cam doesn’t fully register that Paige is speaking to her, asking about the tightness of the kinesiology tape. All she can think about is the weight of the confession pooling on her tongue like adrenaline. 

But before she can open her mouth to say it, Nola blows her whistle, summoning everyone to her for a quick pregame pep talk. Cam fights back an eye roll, more frustrated at her own poor timing than Nola just doing her job, and she stands. She makes sure to pat Paige’s hip first, murmuring a quick “Thank you,” and deciding not to embarrass her by mentioning how the flush rises to the tips of the ears.

Nola wraps her speech up quickly, reminding them to trust in their practice and preparation. Aliyah Boston was going to be a problem in the paint and Kelsey Mitchell was having one of her best years yet – they just needed to play clean defense, communicate with one another, and relax. The Wings play their best basketball when everyone is connected and no one is forcing bad shots too early in the shot clock.

Before she’s called over to the center of the court for the tip, Cam makes her way over to Coley, who’s sitting courtside and proudly wearing #7 across her chest. She gives her a quick hug and dutifully nods along to Coley’s overdramatic pregame hype speech. “You’re Cam Roman,” Coley says sagely. “Not Can’t Roman. By the way, I need four blocks for my parlay tonight. Can you–”

Cam doesn’t even dignify that with a response, tossing back a laugh over her shoulder while Coley yells something at her that sounds strangely like, “Make sure one of those blocks is on Sophie Cunningham!”

Cam just rolls her eyes, making her way to center court as the starters all circle up to await tipoff. She quickly adjusts her shorts, shaking hands with the Fever starters and giving Natasha a quick hug. Natasha was sorely missed – she was one of the Wings’ leading scorers and rebounders last season, and Cam is happy that she’s thriving elsewhere.

Aliyah and NaLyssa stand at the logo to receive the opening tip. Across their huddle, Cam makes brief eye contact with Paige, offering her a reassuring, I got you sort of nod. Paige returns it, cracking the slightest of smiles, and the ball is launched into the air. Aliyah tips it back to Natasha and the game is underway.

The energy in the arena is already electric. Cam’s usually good about tuning out the noise, especially when it’s a home game and the cheers are mostly for them, but there’s something different about the crowd. She can’t tell if it’s because they’ve changed venues, or because there’s as many Fever fans here as there are Wings fans. All she knows is that she can feel the pulse of the crowd, the weight that presses down when you realize the game is bigger than you were expecting it to be.

She doesn’t have the time to think about that right now. Cam’s defensive assignment is Kelsey Mitchell, who’s as quick as she is an amazing shooter. Embarrassingly, Cam gets caught on a screen from Aliyah and there’s not enough help defense to contest Kelsey’s shot. She gets a quick jumper off, notching the Fever’s first two points of the game.

Paige responds immediately – she brings the ball up court, passing it to NaLyssa who hands it right back, and Lexie sags off just enough that it gives Paige enough space to run to the basket and lay it in with ease.

On the other end, Aari sinks an effortless jumper, then Natasha steals the ball off of a bad pass from Li. Aari gets an easy transition bucket – where has Cam heard about awful transition defense before? – and Arike inbounds to Cam to bring the ball up. Cam dishes it out to NaLyssa in the low post and Cam makes the cut under the basket. NaLyssa passes it back to her and Cam lays the ball in with Lexie hot on her heels. She points to NaLyssa in thanks.

A foul by Li sends Kelsey to the free throw line on her and-one. With Indiana leading them 9-4, Lexie steals the ball from NaLyssa and the Wings miss their next six shot attempts before the next dead ball allows them to sub people in. Aziaha and Myisha come in for Arike and NaLyssa respectively, and Sophie Cunningham checks in for Lexie.

Paige is sent to the line for one free throw, raising the score to 16-5. They’re unable to get the ball to fall for the next few possessions until Aziaha stops the bleeding with a clean lay. Cam eventually gets switched onto Sophie, and she’s hot on her heels as she tries to find open space. Sophie manages to get enough separation for Aari to pass her the ball, but Cam recovers immediately. She’s still thinking about what Coley said to her as she rises to block Sophie’s three point attempt.

Cam connects cleanly with the ball, and it ricochets off of Sophie’s forearm. Paige manages to scoop it up before the Fever can and she takes off down the court with Cam just a few paces behind her. Natasha is close enough to intercept it, but Paige passes the ball behind her back and Cam finishes their transition take with a lay up.

Paige is grinning, patting her hip in a brief celebration, but Cam doesn’t have the time to dwell on it further. When she settles back into defense, hounding every move Sophie’s making, she can tell that there is a noticeable difference in how she’s playing, like she’s pissed about the block and the score.

Cam doesn’t make a habit of trash talking in games. Coach VanDerveer wasn’t a fan and Cam wasn’t that type of person, anyways. She preferred to let her game talk.

But when Sophie glances up at her, sweat beading at her hairline and a smirk a little too pointed to be anything less than personal, and says, “Guess that afterparty really brought you two together, huh?” Cam really feels like Sophie was inviting bad karma onto herself.

Cam doesn’t entertain it. She does get a hand in the passing lane when Aari tries to force the ball to Sophie, deflecting the ball out of bounds. Sophie’s less than subtle irritation is present when she steps out of bounds to inbound. Cam doesn’t plan on making the pass easy for her, and it seems that her teammates are playing amazing defense, too, as they eventually force a five second violation.

Cam has never felt so vindicated by a whistle and she tries really, really hard not to smile at Sophie as Paige jogs over to receive following the turnover. Part of her wants to say something back, but she just bites her tongue, reminding herself that the longer she doesn’t react to Sophie’s obvious chirping, then the more pissed she’ll get.

Cam passes the ball to Paige and jogs up court with her, listening as she calls the play and motions for their teammates. Sophie is guarding Paige, but Cam knows that the Fever’s defensive gameplan – much like any other team in the league – is to double Paige when she’s least expecting it and force the turnover. Paige circumvents the pressure easily as the Wings offense rotates around them, and Cam shakes her defender long enough to receive the pass from Paige.

Cam draws too much attention. The Fever bite on the pass, and Cam rises in the air for what looks like a quick jumper, but she just passes the ball to Myisha, who sinks the layup easily. With a little more momentum building for them, they manage to hold the Fever scoreless for their next three possessions, whereas the Wings score three, two, and three consecutively. Cam contributed to five of those points and nailed the shot from beyond the arc that caused Stephanie White to call for the timeout.

Having cleared the deficit, the Fever now only lead 19-17. Cam tries to catch her breath in the huddle while Chris talks defense, emphasizing that since the pressure is on, the Fever will likely go to Boston or Mitchell to extend their lead out of the timeout. The buzzer rings and they make their way back onto the court.

Cam is guarding Aari on the inbound, but she manages to squeeze the ball in and passes it to Kelsey. They bring the ball up and Cam is on Kelsey like glue and Li is effectively boxing out Aliyah. Aari passes to Sophie, who passes to Natasha once recognizing that Myisha has left too much space, and Natasha banks the shot in off of the backboard.

The last few minutes of the first quarter are back and forth with both the Wings and the Fever trading empty possessions and scores. Cam sinks another long shot from the perimeter, notching 12 points in the quarter and tacks on another block – surprisingly against Aliyah. Li was handling her under the basket and the Fever center hadn’t been expecting the block from behind.

Cam and Paige sit for the first few minutes of the second quarter, having played the entire first. When they’re not watching their team play, they’re listening intently to Nola as she discusses observations from the first quarter. With Clark out, a lot of the Fever’s offense flows through Aliyah and Kelsey, but they couldn’t allow Kelsey to get too hot. Kelsey is a shorter, quick guard, but Cam is fast for her height and position – she’d have to play closer and careful defense on her to make sure she couldn’t get a shot off.

Chris motions for them, along with JJ, to sub in when Aari, Kelsey, and Sophie make their way back to the scorer’s table after the media timeout five minutes into the second quarter. They’d managed to keep the game close with the score being 30-28 when they check in. JJ takes Arike’s spot on the court and once the ball is inbounded to Paige, she begins making her way up, her eyes scanning the court for any openings in the Fever defense.

Sophie is playing close defense, but Paige has incredibly skilled handles, so Sophie isn’t able to do much. Paige passes the ball to Cam on the right wing, then motions. They’d run this play countless times in practice before – Paige would pass to Cam, then rotate towards her. Cam would fake a handoff while Paige screens for her. The expectation is for the defense to bite on the fake and double Paige, expecting her to get the ball and not Cam, but this time, it blows up completely.

Sophie is still defending Paige closely. Aari is on Cam, leaving enough space in between them that Paige would have room to squeeze in and effectively screen, but during their rotation as Cam is faking the handoff, Sophie pushes Paige in the back. It’s subtle, but Sophie’s eyes aren’t on the ball at all or where Paige is rotating to, and the whistle doesn’t blow. Cam’s not really surprised, but Paige’s fall draws causes Aliyah and Myisha to hesitate in the paint and it gives Cam enough time to drive through the open lane and lay the ball in with her left hand.

By the time she’s backpedaling for defense, Paige is already on her feet again, looking more irritated than she looks hurt, which makes Cam relax slightly. She pats her once on the hip as she passes by and Paige nods at her, reassuring her that she’s okay. Cam glances back to Sophie, her eyes narrowing slightly.

It’s a close game. It’s heated. Cam has been playing long enough to understand accidental fouls in the heat of the moment, but nothing was accidental about the way Sophie pushed Paige from behind. It would have been an easy foul call if league referees weren’t deathly allergic to their yearly optometrist appointments. 

Cam would be lying if she said it wasn’t frustrating her. Paige is her rookie, her teammate, her friend, and probably the least problematic person in the league. For Sophie to behave so aggressively and carelessly…it bothers her. Especially since the foul calls never go both ways and Sophie gets away with a lot of dirty plays.

She doesn’t let the feeling consume her, though. They have a game to play. Cam needs to be smart, and racking up another ejection probably wouldn’t help her cause.

The rest of the time in the second quarter runs down with little issue. The Fever lead them 46-45 as they jog into the locker rooms. Chris preaches a very effective halftime speech (lie), but when he asks the assistant coaches if they have anything to add, the energy shifts as Nola starts discussing their performance. They were playing together and communicating, which is what they needed to keep doing in the second half. They needed to make sure to play disciplined – senseless fouls were one of their biggest points of growth as a team. 

Nola continues on with more player specific scouting, like how Kelsey is favoring one side of the court and how they need to be better in preventing her from getting to her spot. She notes that Aliyah is playing incredibly physically in the paint and reminds Myisha and Li to stay disciplined and to not let Aliyah draw them into foul trouble.

After halftime wraps up, Cam catches Paige’s eye from across the locker room, and they share a silent conversation. Paige, able to read the gentle concern in Cam’s gaze, nods reassuringly, and all Cam can truly make out in her expression is the stark determination, the unwillingness to lose this game after all the word they’d put in.

The third quarter tips off with a renewed spark. All of the starters are back in and it’s clear that whatever the Fever did or talked about during half was working. Aari is sharper on her passes, Kelsey lethal from the floor, and Aliyah’s paint dominance was continuing as the quarter went on.

The Wings were able to hold on though. They recovered and fought back defensively. Cam notched a steal and another block within the first four minutes, managing to turn both of those turnovers into positive points for the team. The Fever were unable to extend any sort of damning lead as the Wings were always quick to respond.

Tempers are rising. Cam can see Arike getting frustrated when Aari presses in close to her, absorbing a lot of contact that doesn’t get called by the refs. Despite that, she can see Arike’s clear attempt at trying to stay in the game and stay focused. Aliyah is dominant in the paint, but she’s physical and there’s a lot of uncalled elbow tossing that Li is doing her best to manage. Even Paige, who’s usually so calm and composed on the court unless she’s having genuine conversations with the referees, is starting to look beyond irritated by Lexie and Sophie. 

It’s loud in the arena. The game is physical, unreasonably close, and they’re not quite able to stay as consistent as they want to be between the lack of fair foul calls and play calls that end up collapsing before they can set their offense up.

And for whatever fucking reason, Sophie Cunningham is 0-5 when she’s guarded by Cam, but she’s still running her mouth like she’s prime Taurasi and not the kind of woman Republican senators have affairs with.

With Paige on the bench for a quick breather, Cam is Sophie’s defensive assignment, and she’s not letting up – verbally and physically. She’s applying full court pressure as Cam brings the ball up to facilitate the offense. Cam kicks the ball out to Arike on the wing, working on rotating and getting to her next spot, but Sophie’s got a hand fisted in her jersey, her voice only loud enough for Cam to hear: “Do you sleep with all of the rookies on your team or just the one you can get the most clout from?”

Cam doesn’t even respond to that – mostly because what the fuck? She just breathes deeply, finding her spot at the elbow and catching the ball as Arike passes it to her. She scores off of a clean fadeaway jumper, not even offering a glance back to Sophie.

On the Fever’s next offensive possession, Arike is guarding Sophie and Cam is back on Kelsey. Natasha steps forward to set a screen for Kelsey and Arike doesn’t even need to call for the switch – Cam reads her expression perfectly, both of them weaving around Natasha’s screen, and Kelsey passes the ball off to Sophie as their offense regroups to try and find a different way to score.

“I’m just saying,” Sophie speaks up again, trying for a concerned tone while she dribbles the ball. “A vet having a relationship with a rookie? Before she’d even signed the contract? Sounds like a front office scandal. No wonder y’all can’t win a game – you’re too worried about playing house with your teammates.”

The shot clock is winding down, hardly seconds left, and Sophie’s eyes just barely flick to her right as she looks for someone to dump the ball off to. Cam sees the pass before it happens. With a burst of speed she didn’t even know she was capable of, she intercepts the ball and barrels down the court. She knows Sophie is hot on her heels, so she switches to her left hand, bouncing the ball off of the backboard, but she wasn’t fully expecting the way Sophie slams into her from behind in an attempt to block the shot.

Cam hits the ground with a grunt of pain, although she sees the referee’s arms raise to signify she’d made the shot as their whistle blows, calling a shooting foul on Sophie. Arike is screaming something or the other, reaching down to help her up, and Cam can’t bite back the grin on her face as she stands.

Sophie has an expression of indignant innocence on her face like she hadn’t fouled at all. Cam is usually the bigger person, but she can’t resist shoulder checking the Fever player as she makes her way to the line for her and-one. “That foul’s the only thing on your statline right now,” she says softly, knowing that her casual tone of voice would only piss Sophie off more. “Fifteen minutes and a bunch of zeroes?” She tries for a mocking frown. “Worry about that.”

Sophie honest to God lunges at her, but Natasha holds her back, redirecting her away. Cam can’t stop herself from waving at her as if saying goodbye. Paige subs back in, taking JJ’s spot before Cam shoots (and makes) her free throw.

If Sophie wasn’t already on one before, she is now. Her defense has picked up significantly and Paige is unable to do much with the ball. She passes it to Cam, who subtly motions for her to move, and Paige loses Sophie and makes enough space to cut towards the bucket. Cam hits her with a bounce pass but Sophie recovers, getting under the bucket to contest the shot.

Except Sophie doesn’t stick her arms in the air to actually block it. She goes straight for a jump ball, holding onto the ball tightly. She and Paige are locked in a brief wrestling match for control until Sophie yanks it sharply, her elbow hitting Paige straight in the face, and Cam feels her blood run cold as Paige’s head shoots back and the referee closest blows the whistle, making the signal for a jump ball.

Cam jogs closer, concerned and furious all at once, and Sophie’s smug grin is enough to set her off. She pushes her out of the way – not hard enough to do anything but make a point, and comes face to face with Paige. The blonde is holding a hand over her nose, tears beading at her waterline. Her face is already red.

“Jesus,” she mutters, splaying a palm over Paige’s back, rubbing it soothingly. “You good, P?” Paige nods, coughing a little, and when she lowers her hand, there’s blood dripping from her nostrils and her hand is coated. Cam’s heart drops. “Fuck.” She keeps her voice steady, knowing that overreacting would just make Paige freak out, and she gingerly cups her hand under Paige’s chin to ensure the blood doesn’t splatter on her jersey. She turns to the ref, pleading, “That was a flagrant! She’s literally bleeding!”

The ref looks at her like her hands are tied, but she turns back to the Wings bench, pulling Paige along with her. Cam makes direct eye contact with Chris and Nola as she waves her finger, gesturing to Paige’s face. The bench rises in agreement, pointing and shouting, but Camille and Belle all motion for them to sit back down and be quiet.

If there’s one moment that Cam needs Chris to trust her on, it’s this one. An injury of this severity never just happens accidentally, especially when Sophie’s actions weren’t as much of a play on the ball as they were about harming someone.

But Chris gazes at her, something unreadable in his expression, and he finally makes the gesture to challenge the call, and Cam breathes a sigh of relief as she leads Paige to the bench. Allison is already standing with gauze and ointment.

Considering how the game has gone, Cam doesn’t have any hope in them calling it a flagrant 2 and ejecting Sophie, but she wants the free throws and the possession regardless. Paige takes a seat on the bench while Cam wipes her hands off with a towel. Every time Allison tries to get close enough to tend to her nose, Paige gently pushes her hand away, shaking her head like it hurts too much.

Cam hardly hesitates before she walks over, holding her hand out to Allison, and she wordlessly passes over the gauze and the ointment in surrender. “Sit up,” Cam says softly, drawing Paige’s attention. Her brows pinch together, looking like she wants to argue, but Cam beats her to the chase before she can say anything. “You just got your face beat in by a grown woman with a terrible hair stylist. Will you please let me clean your nose before you bleed all over your jersey? Neon green and red do not go together.”

Paige just stares at her for a long moment before sighing, straightening out her posture and relenting. “S’like Christmas,” she murmurs as Cam carefully pats the gauze around her nose, soaking up the blood leaking from her nostrils. She flinches a little when Cam’s knuckle brushes against the bridge of her nose. Cam smooths her hand across her cheek in apology, not thinking much of the cameras pointed at them. “Just need mistletoe.”

“Perfect,” Cam says dryly. “You’re concussed.”

Paige offers a small smile. “I’m rationalizing,” she responds. “I ain’t even make the shot and I gotta bleed too? S���not right.”

The corner of Cam’s lips twitch up in a smile. The bleeding has slowed, but Cam can already see the beginnings of a nasty bruise swelling on her nose. With one last gentle wipe, she’s cleared away most of the blood. “Will you let Allison make sure your nose isn’t broken or are you gonna keep being a baby?”

That makes Paige narrow her eyes at her, but she gives a slight nod, and Cam steps back to let Allison do her thing. For the most part, Paige keeps quiet as Allison pokes and prods at her face. Her displeasure and pain is evident, though, and the reminder that she got injured – like, serious blood and tears injury, makes an unwanted wave of anger swell in Cam’s chest.

The refs upgraded it to a fragrant 1. They weren’t getting the jump ball, but they were being awarded two free throws and then possession of the ball. Cam still thinks Sophie should have been ejected from the game since she wanted to throw elbows like she was in a boxing ring, but she digresses. Sophie would be paid back in full – Cam was going to make sure of it, although she hasn’t quite decided if her revenge is best served in the form of yet another ejection worthy altercation or blocking every single attempt she makes on the ball.

After Paige’s nose has been fully tended to and she was cleared to be back on court, she knocks down both free throws effortlessly. Cam inbounds to her and she positions her body in between Paige’s and Sophie’s as the Fever player attempts to play full court defense. Cam’s still holding onto that lingering anger, but she reminds herself to keep her cool, even if the sight of Sophie’s smug expression makes her want to punch the fake spray tan off of her.

The last few minutes of the third quarter wind down without further altercation, but Sophie spends most of it running her mouth, trying – and failing – to get much of a reaction out of Cam. She comments on how Cam had tended to her nose on the bench, speculating if Chris knew of the true nature of her and Paige’s relationship or whatever the fuck. She even asked if Cam intentionally signed back on with the Wings just so she could get closer to Paige, which was easily the most insane thing she’s ever heard in her entire life.

Sophie is subbed out for Lexie with two minutes left in the third quarter. The scores are still close. The Fever have maintained a steady four point lead, and going into the fourth quarter, it’s anyone’s game.

The first five minutes of the fourth are peaceful, if not hard fought. Paige went to the bench for a quick breather but both she and Sophie check back in at the same time. Paige doesn’t offer her a second glance, making her way straight to Cam and smacking their palms together as she adjusts her shorts.

From there, it all collapses – as it usually does in the fourth quarter. Sophie still has more fouls than she has points, but she hasn’t shut up the entire game. It’s starting to get a little pathetic and a little easier to ignore as the time goes on. The Fever and the Wings share a few empty possessions, a bucket here and there, but the scores are finally tied after the first media timeout of the quarter.

It happens during one of the Fever’s offensive possessions – Cam is guarding Sophie, and she manages to block her shot again, her fourth of the night and the second on Sophie. Cam managed to secure the loose ball before taking off down the court. There wasn’t a single Fever player in sight besides Sophie, who was directly behind Cam, and none of the Wings were close by either. Cam’s only choice was to score it, so she rises up to lay the ball in.

Except Sophie is not stopping. She crashes into Cam for the second time that night as she tries to block the shot and Cam hits the ground. Hard. Her hands had shot out to take the brunt of the fall, but when Cam feels a coursing pain flare up in her wrist, her heart stutters as she groans.

A whistle blows for the foul, but she’s not thinking about it at all. She rolls onto her back, clutching her right wrist, which is beginning to throb with pain. It was the same injury. The same way she’d injured it during the national championship so many years ago. Paige, Arike, Li, and NaLyssa all surround her, concern etched on their features, and Cam lets Paige pull her to her feet, still cradling her right hand gingerly to her chest.

But Paige notices immediately. She always does. She notices the pain, the slight tremor in her palm as she tries to breathe through the pain.

And then she turns on her heel, coming face to face with Sophie, who’s standing off to the side with some sort of sick, pleased expression on her face. Her team is saying something in their huddle but it’s clear she’s not really paying attention to it.

Paige does something that shocks Cam completely. She shoves Sophie roughly, a grim challenge and pure fucking anger in her words as she barks something like, “Put your hands on her again. I fuckin’ dare you.”

NaLyssa is quick to separate them before Sophie has the chance to retaliate, but Paige doesn’t break eye contact, only smirking like she’s won as NaLyssa drags them backwards. The refs are trying desperately to get the situation under control, but it’s a struggle, and Cam’s voice feels like it’s trapped in her throat.

She doesn’t want Paige to get a tech or ejected from the game. They were so close to the end and if both she and Paige are sent out – whether it’s for injury or for fighting on the court, then they’d probably have to kiss their entire chance of winning goodbye. She rests her left hand over Paige’s bicep, trying to steer her away, but as Natasha is dragging Sophie back, the Fever player can’t resist getting one last word in.

“Yeah, fucking walk away!” she calls, gesturing between Cam and Paige. “Run back to your dyke teammate like you always do–”

Sophie doesn’t get the chance to finish. Cam crosses the few feet in between them in a few quick strides and punches her clean in the jaw.

Pain flares instantly in her wrist, but it’s the last thing on her mind. She’s been fucking around all game – playing dirty, excessive fouls that could (and have) led to multiple injuries, and now, yelling slurs across the court? She’s in the finding out stage.

The court is immediately swept up into chaos. The refs blow their whistles as they try to separate Cam and Sophie, but Sophie swings back. She completely misses, although Cam can’t hold back her smile, knowing that they’re both at least getting ejected for throwing punches – only Cam was woman enough to actually mean it.

Paige’s arms wrap around her waist as she pulls her back, but Cam? She’s already won. Sophie is still screaming something or the other, but Cam doesn’t care. She doesn’t say anything else. The damage is already done, her point has been made, and the American Airlines Center is caught between cheers and boos. It’s like music to her ears. Her wrist still hurts, she’s definitely about to get ejected, and she’s going to have to pay another fine for this in the morning, but she thinks it’s all worth it.

Allison follows her to the locker room, saying something about her wrist, but it all falls on deaf ears. They wouldn’t know anything for sure until they run a few tests and get images, but Cam gets the feeling that she’s going to be out for a few games.

But she thinks about Sophie, about all of the chirping and petty things she’d done all game, and Cam can’t help but smile.

Yeah. Definitely worth it.

PAIGE

Paige is not smiling.

After Cam and Sophie went on to get ejected, the Wings ended up losing the game to the Fever 94-86. It was close, but Kelsey Mitchell hit a dagger three that just ended up snowballing as they had to send the Fever to the line to get a shot at possession or in hopes that they’d brick their free throws.

It wasn’t necessarily Cam’s fault. It’s not like she would have been able to play anyways. Paige watched her go down, saw how she cradled her wrist to her chest – the one she’d opened up about injuring in the national championship and the one that Paige herself had wrapped with kinesiology tape before the game started. And, well, Paige was also the one who initially shoved Sophie because she injured Cam and Paige wasn’t able to keep her feelings to herself about it.

She’s not upset that she lost. She’s mostly frustrated that the game played out the way that it did. The Fever did what they did best – they applied heavy, physical defense that was more like wrestling than it was about genuine plays on stopping them from scoring, and both she and Cam ended up swept in the chaos.

Paige could see the constant back and forth between Cam and Sophie. She wasn’t ever completely sure what was said. Between the distance and the cheers from the crowd, it was hard to hear, but she could see Sophie speaking and the subtle changes in Cam’s expression. Paige likes to think she’s skilled in being able to read Cam, and that barely concealed irritation spoke volumes.

She’s frustrated because her nose still hurts, because the bruising she’s sure she’ll wake up to tomorrow will mar her face and she’d have to field dumb questions from the reporters and give diplomatic answers about how basketball is a physical game. On the bright side, her nose isn’t broken. Sophie’s elbow just broke skin and part of her does have to admit that it was really nice for Cam to fret over her like that.

But that’s not the point.

The point is her vet just got ejected. Again. Her second career ejection in the same season, for the same person, and Paige can’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Maybe Cam wouldn’t have gotten ejected had she been able to control her feelings a little better, but Paige also heard what Sophie said to deserve a punch to the face. She’s not sure if Sophie wouldn’t have dug her own grave without intervention from Paige.

The new, more pressing issue is that Paige feels a little confused. Which is confusing in and of itself considering she knows where she and Cam stand. They want each other. They like each other. They’re waiting – or rather, she’s waiting, until Cam is a little more secure in her own skin and her personhood to feel comfortable enough to let her walls down and be with Paige. They’ve discussed that. And even if she’s content with waiting, there will always be a smaller, more selfish part of her that wants more.

Never more than Cam will be comfortable with giving her. There’s a difference. She wants to be with Cam. The entire situation is just complex and messy and truthfully, it makes her a little crazy, because Cam won’t let herself be with Paige yet she literally puts her career on the line to protect her or make a point about who she is to Paige.

She knows what they are. What they mean to each other – which is why Paige hates feeling confused over this, because she has no real reason to doubt Cam’s feelings for her. She just has to trust the timing, the process, the unwavering belief that Cam will want to be with her fully one day.

Paige knows it sounds stupid, that it makes her look stupid. She can wait, but she’s starting to need Cam like she’s a crucial component in her DNA makeup. She’s starting to want Cam like she’s a drug and Paige is the addict craving that first hit.

But there’s a smaller, more doubtful part of her that wonders if Cam will ever get there. Get comfortable enough to let the both of them be together in the way they both obviously want to be. It’s dumb, Paige knows that, but she can’t help but feel insecure over it sometimes, which makes her feel worse because for as much as she doesn’t expect things from Cam, she still wants to be chosen by her – even if Cam does choose her in a lot of ways.

She’s just confused. Her feelings are all over the place and she’s beginning to wonder if the both of them are making it worse by continuing to feed into this halfway-lovers thing they have going on, where they spend hours attached at the hip and they find their way into each other’s hotel rooms during road trips. There’s never anything inherently sexual about it – Cam lets Paige hold her and they go to sleep, but it’s the fact that Paige is allowed to be so close but she’s never close enough in the way that she wants to be close.

Paige is sure that she’s spiraling. She’s sure she has no real reason to be freaking out, but between the emotions of the game, her lingering feelings for Cam, and everything going on, she just can’t help it.

Which is why she finds herself standing outside of Cam’s door later that night, after the presser and after they sat through a miserable postgame speech from Chris about not letting their emotions get the better of them. He talked about togetherness and other things that Paige ended up tuning out because all she could think about was Cam, how her wrist was doing and what the diagnosis was, and whether or not she was allowed to feel distraught and torn yet weirdly vindicated by Cam punching a grown woman in the face for her. She’s just so hopeless.

She’s not even sure she knows what she wants to say to Cam. She’s not sure if she’s going to ask if her wrist is okay or if she’s in serious trouble with the league or some other word vomit form of, “I know we had this agreement to keep things clean but I literally cannot do this anymore. I want you so bad that it’s starting to become a genuine issue and if you’re not ready yet, I completely understand, but I’m starting to lose my mind because you don’t want me – okay, that was a bad choice of words, but you won’t let us be together even though we both do yet you do all these things to me and for me and it’s starting to get confusing and–”

Paige knocks on the door before her brain implodes. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants if only to have something to do with them, trying desperately to rack her brain for something to say or if it would be just as effective to stand in front of Cam’s door like a complete fucking idiot.

But then Cam’s opening the door, her face exhausted yet open and her curls spilling over her shoulders in loose waves, and anything Paige had been planning on saying dies on her tongue the moment their eyes meet. She’s seen Cam in varying states of dress over the course of their really complicated friendship – from a crop top and bomber jacket at the draft to as naked as the day she was born when draft night turned into something else, to her Wings uniform to the practice jersey, to an old Stanford t-shirt and sweats.

Cam’s literally just wearing a shirt with Victoria Monet’s signature jaguar on it and a comical pair of boxers with red hearts on it, but Paige’s brain flatlines either way. It’s starting to become a genuine issue. She doesn’t know why she’d ever agreed to clean in the first place. How she was ever supposed to uphold her end of the agreement when Camille fucking Roman was the other person in said agreement is beyond her, but she can’t take back her actions now.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Cam says coyly, trying for a teasing tone, but it’s clear she’s a little worn down by the events of the day.

Paige, unfortunately, seemed to have left her only functioning brain cells back at the American Airlines Center, or perhaps they’d just bled out of her nose when Sophie Cunningham knocked the shit out of her, because she just stares at Cam, and rather dumbly, she says, “What?”

Intentional or not, that makes Cam crack a smile as she opens her apartment door wider for Paige. She shuts it behind them with a soft click and Paige tries to not get too distracted by Bobby and Gatsby as they emerge from somewhere in the apartment and begin rubbing up against Paige’s calves. “Every time I get in trouble you show up at my door,” Cam explains. Then, she seems to reconsider. “Well, you show up at my door constantly, so I don’t think it’s as much of a coincidence as it is you being obsessed with me.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Paige mutters, but she cannot deny the allegations. She appraises Cam from head to toe, her eyes locking in on her wrist. She’s wearing a short-arm spica cast. It only covers her palm and wrist area. The fact she’s wearing a cast makes Paige’s heart fall out of her ass. She was going to be out for a few games, she’s sure. “How’s your wrist?”

Cam glances down at it minutely before shrugging. “Fractured my trapezium,” she responds. “Same bone. Same hand. Injured it the same way I injured it in college, actually, although I don’t think punching Sophie Cunningham helped matters any.”

Paige huffs, the sound between amusement and something else that might be edged with guilt. It makes Cam raise a brow in question, concern appearing in her features, but Paige starts speaking again. “Why do you keep getting ejected for me?” she asks softly. Something in Cam’s face shifts, clearly not expecting that question. “First, it was the Chicago game. You were screamin’ at Coach ‘cause he wouldn’t take me out after I went down. Then it was tonight ‘cause you literally punched somebody in the face for talkin’ shit, and I…” Paige trails off, her shoulders sagging a little hopelessly. “That’s not like you, Cam.”

Cam swallows thickly. She doesn’t respond for a few beats, her eyes searching Paige’s – Paige isn’t sure what she’s looking for, but she eventually breaks eye contact, looking away a little uncomfortably.

Paige steps closer to her. Desperation swells in her chest like gauze absorbing blood because all she wants to do is understand. Why Cam does this for her but won’t claim her, won’t let herself be taken care of, won’t trust herself enough to let the both of them finally take that next step.

“I just want to know if I’m looking for answers in the wrong place,” Paige confesses after a moment of silence. Her throat constricts tightly, tangible, physical proof that she’s not just psyching herself up mentally – that this is real and the way Cam is making her feel isn’t something she’s talked herself into a spiral over. “I want to know why I’m enough for you to want but not enough for you to need. I want to know why this–” Paige gestures to the space in between them, “–why this is something that we keep avoiding. We both know what this is, Camille. Why do we keep pretending like we can ever go back to normal?”

Cam stares at her wordlessly. Her throat bobs, something unreadable shining in her gaze. Paige can also make out something that looks strangely like guilt, or probably realization, or something damning, like finding out that her feelings ran so much deeper than she’d been expecting. Like realizing that this meant more to her than she thought it did, like suddenly understanding how much weight this carried.

“I didn’t get ejected for you,” Cam murmurs. Paige would probably be offended if it didn’t look like she was trying to convince herself that. Cam shakes her head like she’s facing some sort of personal exchange in her brain, and she takes a step backwards. Paige fills that space immediately, which makes Cam look up from where she’d been staring mindlessly at a spot on the rug.

“You didn’t?” Paige repeats, her head cocking to the side in question.

Cam’s eyes scan her features, pausing on her eyes, the dark bruise on the nose and the butterfly bandage splayed across the bridge of it, and lingering just a few seconds too long on her lips. Eventually, she shakes her head. “I would have done it for anyone else,” she whispers. “You’re my teammate. She spent the entire game talking crazy.”

Paige’s brain focuses on the teammate word for a few, indignant moments, but when the rest of Cam’s words settle in the air, she suddenly feels so stupid.

Paige realizes what Sophie must have spent all game talking shit about. It was always the same topic that Cam ever truly seemed to show emotion for on the court. Sophie was saying things about Paige to Cam, like her name and their relationship was something for her to weaponize. She spent forty minutes chirping about Paige and Cam, one of the main things that Cam’s always wanted to keep close to them, one of the things that Cam wants to protect the most.

Despite the realization, Paige takes another tentative step forward, although Cam takes one more back. She wants to hear it from Cam’s mouth – the confession. The undeniable proof that she’s not the only one losing her mind over this, that she’s not the only crazy one. “We both know we’re not just teammates, Cam,” she says, voice soft. “That’s bullshit. You don’t punch people for your teammates. You’ve never so much as pushed somebody before today. So what is it? Really?”

Another step. The distance between them lessens, and Cam is running out of places to go. Still, she’s silent, and Paige doesn’t raise her voice. “You know what I think?” she says quietly, not really looking for a response before she continues speaking. “I think you want me. You do. Not anyone else. I’m not something that’s been decided for you by your dad, your family, or the media. And this?” Paige gestures between them, at the space that’s slowly shrinking the closer Paige moves towards her. “This is real. It means something to you. As much as you might not have wanted this to be a thing, it is. It’s complicated and it’s difficult, but fuck, Cam, it’s ours. When are you gonna stop running from it? From us?”

Paige is a little breathless when she finishes, and Cam – cautious yet brash to a fault, bullheaded yet practical, beautiful and so fucking smart and witty and everything Paige had been searching for before she consciously realized she would scan crowded rooms for someone like her – Cam can’t find the words, even if it looks like the confession is about to burst from her like a balloon too ripe with air. Her eyes shine, something like understanding and something begging to be listened to reflected in the warm chestnut of her gaze. 

Paige steps closer. Cam steps backwards, her back now flush against the cream walls of her apartment, and Cam can’t help but gasp a little. But Paige doesn’t slow. She’s not thinking, not about anything besides the woman in front of her, the woman who she takes another step closer towards until their hips brush and she can smell something sweet on her breath. Peaches, probably – they’re Cam’s favorite fruit.

Their noses brush. Paige ignores the sting of pain. Her chest swells with desperation and temptation, the same feelings that she was sure Eve felt before she plucked the apple from the tree. And softly, tenderly, pleadingly, she murmurs, “Tell me the truth, Camille.”

Resolve hardens on Cam’s features. Without time to second guess herself, Cam fists the hood of Paige’s sweatshirt in her left hand, pulling her closer until their lips finally crash together.

It’s like submerging herself in an ice bath after hours of arduous practice. It’s like coming up for air after being underwater for so long. It’s like finally coming home after spending weeks on the road, like this moment in and of itself was something Paige had been unconsciously counting down towards.

Cam’s nose brushes against hers, which makes Paige hiss in pain, but she doesn’t care. Not when she has Cam this close after weeks of yearning for her, after spending weeks telling herself to be patient and that she needed time. Not when Paige had to lay in bed next to her, holding onto Cam like it could have been their last time.

Paige’s hands rest on her waist, her thumbs pressing into the skin just below her ribcage, pulling her closer and tighter and firmer against her. The kiss is hungry, desperate, a little insistent, and each and every slide of their lips makes Paige’s senses shudder and lyse from the pressure of how badly she’s wanted this. More than anything else it all but makes her crumble because she can tell that Cam’s wanted this, too, just as much as she has.

Cam hardly lets Paige suck in a breath of air before her free hand rises to tangle in the strands of hair at the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her back up to her. Slowly, without missing a beat, Paige tugs her closer until their hips meet, the warmth and weight of Cam making her ache, she begins walking the both of them backwards. The backs of her calves hit the cushions on Cam’s sofa and they separate only long enough for Paige to unceremoniously drop to the couch.

She glances up. The sight of Cam standing before her makes her burn. Her shirt has ridden up from how Paige clutched the fabric in between her fingers. Her lips are swollen, shining, and her pupils are blown out, and she looks like – because she is – the most beautiful woman Paige has ever seen in her life.

It’s obvious that Cam just wants to fucking kill her, because slowly she inches forward and settles in Paige’s lap, her knees bracketing her thighs, and all Paige can do is hold onto hips and pray for some restraint. Somehow, she manages to find it, pressing her forehead to Cam’s and stopping them from going any further. Cam’s breathing heavily against her, her perfume and the fruit on her lips and the general air of intoxication around her making it too difficult for Paige to think.

“Tell me to stop,” Paige whispers, meeting Cam’s eyes and really hoping that she doesn’t actually use this as an out. “Please. I don’t want this to be something you regret tomorrow.”

Cam’s features soften, something so impossibly tender in her gaze as she reaches up with her uninjured hand. She cups Paige’s cheek, her thumb brushing against the dimple there. Her tone is earnest when she swears, “You will never be something I regret.”

Vulnerably, Paige scans her features for any hint of deception, but she finds none. She holds onto Cam a little tighter. “I want this,” Cam says slowly, carefully, as if saying the wrong words could result in this being taken away from her. She turns Paige’s face towards hers, and Paige truly can’t help the way her heart slams against her ribcage as she stares longingly at her. “I want you, Paige. All of it. Everything. I don’t want to run from this anymore. I don’t want to hurt you – I don’t want to hurt me by pretending like I haven’t wanted this for weeks.”

Cam’s throat bobs, shifting on Paige’s lap, painfully honest despite how difficult it can be. “I’m not going to be perfect. I don’t know how to do this right. Not yet, at least.” She cracks the smallest of smiles and Paige can’t help but laugh softly. “But…you’re worth it. You always have been. I think I’ve just been scared of me not being worth it and being scared of what would happen if this wasn’t just ours. I don’t want to give up on us before we had the chance to try.”

A hint of a smile creeps onto Paige’s lips, the lower one wobbling. She tries to not get too excited, but judging by the fondness on Cam’s face, she figures she was unsuccessful. “You mean it?” she murmurs, her gaze hopeful. She hates how her voice cracks, but fuck, she’s not sure if she’s ever been happier before. “We’re doing this?”

Cam nods softly, her expression a little shy if not slightly enamored. “We are,” she confirms, her lips brushing against Paige’s. “And since we are both effectively out for the Mystics game tomorrow, you have one chance to impress me and I might let you take me out on a date.”

“Oh, really?” Paige asks, immediately picking up on Cam’s bullshit as she leans back into the couch, a lazy smile on her face. Cam follows her as she moves, pressing further into her body, and Paige thinks she could get used to this – Cam’s weight settled against her, the way her frame fits hers so perfectly. “It wasn’t impressive at all when I dropped 35 on Phoenix after spending a week on concussion protocol and two days unable to breathe out of my nose?”

Cam hums. “I think your illness was a little overdramatic.”

Paige nods sagely. “And you came over to my apartment and made me soup because that wasn’t dramatic, either?”

“I’m very committed to the bit,” Cam says seriously. “Like when a kid comes up to you and is like, look at my cartwheel, and they show you the most pathetic looking cartwheel ever, you have to pretend to be geeked about it. Your fake illness was the pathetic cartwheel, by the way.”

Paige makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, her fingers pressing firmer against Cam’s ribcage, itching to press her hands directly to her skin but figuring that’d be a little too forward. “You really wanna talk about cartwheels right now?” she rasps. “‘Cause you’ve kept me waiting for almost two months and I think I deserve something in apology.”

“Do you?”

“Cam,” Paige pleads, her bottom lip jutting out a little pathetically. She’s not sure how else to make it obvious that she’s about to burst at the seams – she literally has Cam sitting on her lap, after two months of ‘we have to keep this clean’ and ‘we can’t,’ and the only thing she wants to do is kiss the woman she’s been thinking about for days on end. She taps her nose, wincing dramatically for effect. “I’m injured. Are you really gonna do this to me? What happened to your humanity?”

Cam rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and yeah. Paige is so far gone, but she can’t even bring herself to be ashamed about it – not when Cam’s leaning forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the tip of her bruised nose, similar to how she’d kissed Paige’s temple when she was concussed.

Then, her hand drops to curl around the back of Paige’s neck, and she pulls her in gently. Paige sighs against her lips, melting into the couch completely. Their kiss is softer this time around, but no less meaningful. Paige has to bite back a giddy smile of her own when Cam presses a little further into her body, like the centimeters of space in between them is more like a chasm and she can’t get enough of the way Paige feels against her.

Paige’s hands smooth down Cam’s sides, not rushing or demanding anything, and Cam sighs when Paige’s fingers brush against the tanned skin exposed by her shirt riding up. Paige pulls back far enough to watch Cam nod, to listen to the soft, raspy hum in consent, and she glides her palms against Cam’s skin. They both sigh, and Cam leans in again, impossibly content.

There’s no heat behind her movements. Paige just wants to be close, always a bit of a clinger, and the warmth of Cam’s skin beneath her palms makes something in her brain quiet for once. It stills her restless nerves, soothes something inside of her that has been conditioned to constant speed. It’s here that she’s allowed to slow down, to just be Paige and not a brand.

They move slowly, softly, and far too lost in it that neither of them hear the turn of the doorknob – not until they’re both interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Cam flinches and bumps Paige’s nose, eliciting a half-whine half-hiss, and Paige immediately pulls her hands out from other Cam’s shirt to clutch her face.

“Well, I was worried you’d find more Fever players to fist-fight while I was at H-E-B, but I was not expecting to find you with your tongue down Paige’s throat.” Paige glances over Cam’s shoulder to find Coley standing in the doorway with grocery bags in her hands. She just looks unimpressed, and Cam has her face buried in her shoulder, so Paige hopes that she’s not really in trouble. “Hi, Paige! Did you come for dinner? I told Cam to invite you.”

“Hi, Coley,” Paige says, a little stiffly. Her cheeks are still burning. “I didn’t know I was invited for dinner.”

Coley just scoffs, finally shutting the door behind her, kicking her shoes off, and making her way into the kitchen to deposit the bags. “It slipped my mind,” Cam grumbles, her face still pressed into Paige’s shoulder out of sheer embarrassment. Paige has half a mind to extract her because if she, the one who Coley walked in on feeling up her younger sister, cannot hide, then Cam doesn’t deserve to hide, either. They were, like, a thing now. Embarrassment was supposed to be mutually shared – in sickness and health or whatever the fuck. “I was a little busy getting chewed out by my doctor for reinjuring my wrist.”

Paige brushes her fingers along the outside of Cam’s thigh before she slides out of Paige’s lap. She’s red, too. Under any other circumstances it would probably be humorous since Coley doesn’t seem to mind at all. Paige briefly wonders if this was a recurring thing – Coley having the worst timing ever and finding Cam in weird situations.

Paige immediately expels that thought from her mind, mostly because it means thinking about Cam with other people, and they definitely aren’t that much of a thing yet for her to be getting upset over whoever Cam saw before her. Still, she sneaks a glance at Cam, whose lips still shine from their kiss, and Paige really can’t resist a satisfied smirk because she did that.

“Usually the wining and the dining comes before the, uh–” Coley waves vaguely in their direction, “–before whatever that was. But, I mean. You’re grown. Just keep it away from young, impressionable minds. The PDA, not the homosexuality, by the way.”

Paige catches Cam’s eye roll as she leans her head back on the couch. “One, you are 28–”

“You don’t have to say it like that–”

“And two, you barged into my apartment,” Cam points out.

Coley huffs dramatically as she slices something on a cutting board. “Okay, touche. That one’s on me.”

There’s a natural lull in conversation, and Paige glances over at Cam, who’s already looking at her with a bit of fondness. But she knows that look. Paige just sighs. “Am I getting the shovel talk tonight?” she asks, a little forlorn.

“Definitely,” Cam confirms. She presses a chaste kiss to her cheek, which just makes Paige flush, and she stands up. Cam holds out her healthy hand to tug Paige to her feet. Her voice drops to a whisper, only loud enough for the blonde to hear. “Don’t worry. Coley already loves you. She’s just being dramatic and wants an excuse to stick her nose in my business.”

“I don’t need an excuse, Camille!” Coley calls from across the apartment, and her words make Cam grin. She intertwines her fingers fully with Paige’s as she drags her across the apartment. The ease in the motion makes any previously held worry dissipate from Paige’s shoulders.

With something like ease fluttering in her chest and inexplicable fondness for both the woman next to her and her older sister who hadn’t hesitated before welcoming Paige into their family like she knew that Paige was going to be something special, Paige feels like she could get used to this. The one thing she knew for absolute certain was that she wasn’t going to let this go.

[iluvbuckets]

who are your favorite authors???? i need more paige it’s been dead

ummm,

i really love anything by @iluvbuckets she’s a gem fr , always very creative and unique in the way she writes, she’s been sick for a little while but yall know her comeback is going to be good.

@bueckersbitxh. and one of my favorites is Mar. she has this way of combining real, raw feelings with their words, and the smut is just… immaculate. It’s the perfect mix of emotion and spice.

@dontrllycaretbh thena has had me in a chokehold for so long, i like anything by her, mine to know is my fave but im so excited to find out what she does with crosscourt when she comes back.

@vamptizm I’m obsessed with her work — the reader texts are always so amazing 😫, and she just did a face reveal?? Yeah, she’s automatically on the favorites list.

prolly way more but like i just traveled to london so im so tired. 😔

[iluvbuckets]

Spicy fic when?

when i post it

[iluvbuckets]

my favorite genre of film : paige’s face scrunch pose

[iluvbuckets]

been getting mentioned by so many ppl for writer/fic recs recently thank u for all the support and for 800 followers ts is crazy

it’s been a stressful week but i have so much stuff to share with u all

[iluvbuckets]

i’m here to save the day

any recent fic recs? i’ve been in a drought lately

man icl i haven’t read shit recently unless it’s on my following paige by mutuals

it’s been a freaky ass month so literally back of the club by @sierrale8ne and anything from @iluvbuckets cuz we don’t get enough sub!paige fr

[iluvbuckets]

fic/ authors recs?

@iluvbuckets @prettygirl-gabi @insomniakisses I have a few more, but I don’t remember their users😭😭

[iluvbuckets]

been watching theories about where the marvel universe is going to go after avengers doomsday for HOURS so i’m spending my night rewatching the movies bc im a nerd

[iluvbuckets]

coming soon.

[iluvbuckets]

poll: paige's coach suit or the second one she wore on draft night??

the second one 🤤 i have a thing for all black outfits tho they get me barking

[iluvbuckets]

do u have pics of Paige and Azzi you rlly like

why yes! these are a few of my absolute favs

[iluvbuckets]

I would be asking for bicep pics every damn hour so Paige better be as well.

that’s what i’m saying fr

[iluvbuckets]

do y’all think paige asks azzi for bicep pics when she’s sad

[iluvbuckets]

yeah the new unrivaled vid of azzi just shows me that no matter what i rlly do fold so easily for pretty fems

[iluvbuckets]

PAIGE LETS FIGHT NOW

[iluvbuckets]

Pain, Then Pleasure - P.B

𐃯— Paige Bueckers x Reader

𐃯— After a brutal week of exams, two friends go to the local bar to celebrate. The drinks flow and you can’t ignore the way strangers eyes fall onto Uconn’s golden girl, Paige Bueckers. Jealousy builds in you as the night goes on. All whilst Paige grows drunk and clingy. not being able to keep her hands off you in a way that would blur every line of friendship. When a girl hits on Paige and shattered glass leaves her a bleeding finger, you pull her into a dark corner of the bar protective and possessive instinct tipping into something heated. Her finger wasn’t the only thing you kissed better that night. One drunken kiss turns into another, and before the night is gone, you’re walking Paige back to her dorm where all that tension finally shatters. The glass wasn’t the only thing that shattered that night.

𐃯—Word count: 6.8k

𐃯— Content warnings: drinking. smut. sub!p slight spit kink. semi!public sex. fingering. slight!overstim (p!receiving) exhibitionism. oral (p!receiving). scissoring. slapping. degrading. praise. edging. crying. aftercare.

༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

The bass from the local bar moved through the sticky floor and up your body, the whole bar vibrating with all of UConn students drunk on finals weekend freedom. Shouts, laughter, and awful singing that was really just yelling mixed with the sharp smell of vodka and spilled beer. Swaying behind you, her arm wrapped around your waist loosely like it was the most natural thing in the world to her, was none other than UConn’s golden girl, Paige Bueckers.

She glowed like she always did tall, slim figure, golden locs, pale skin kissed by the glowy orange lights, her smile pretty and a little tipsy. Her eyes were drunk and sparkling, and you’d both admit you had maybe one too many shots. You hadn’t even wanted to come out tonight. Finals were over, yeah, but your plan was to sit at home in your sweats and perhaps binge the new season of whatever Netflix show Paige had already bullied you into watching. But Paige had other plans. You could still see her leaning against her dorm doorframe earlier, hooking one finger through your belt loop, giving it a sharp, small tug that made your stomach flip.

“C’mon,” she’d whined, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled your face, looking down at you. “You’re not bailing on me. I need my favorite girl out there right by my side tonight,” she muttered.

One look into her pleading eyes with that knowing grin and your resistance had crumbled. And now here you were, swept away into the crowded heat of the bar with her attached to you like a second skin.

Heat pooled in your stomach as her chest brushed your back, her cologne cutting sharp through the mist of sweat and beer. And you hated how easy she made it how a single teasing look could leave your cheeks pink with your pulse jumping.

You tilted your head back toward her over your shoulder, making eye contact, your faces so close. “I can’t believe I let you drag me here,” you mumbled, though your tone held no real bitterness. You toyed with the silver rings around her slim fingers that were grazing the skin on your stomach. Even tipsy, she clung to you like she belonged there.

Paige only grinned, dragging her hands along your exposed tummy, your white crop top doing nothing to shield you from the chill of her rings, which caused you to shiver. She gave your hips a little squeeze, like she was testing how much she could get away with.

“Oh, please. You know damn full and well you’d be bored in your room shoving ice cream down your throat watching that lame ass show.” Her lips brushed your ear as she leaned in over the bass.

“Maybe that’s my type of celebration, and you practically begged me to watch that show!” you huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You love it when I make you come out with me. Don’t lie.”

You could only hum at that, closing your eyes and turning your head back as the alcohol sank heavy and warm into your system. Your hand fell over hers after toying with her jewelry, and you gave her soft hand a light squeeze, and she immediately went still against your back, breath catching. Especially drunk, she was easy to guide, easy to hold, your golden girl who pretended to run the night, yet every single little touch from you made her instantly melt.

Over time at UConn, being around Paige like this had taught you who she truly was. Paige wasn’t always the confident, in control girl the world believed she was. That was the version she gave the public eye. The one who ran the show. But with you, that act slipped. Drunk Paige was the clearest example bratty, whiny, and completely different from the poised girl everyone else saw.

Tonight, she was slipping into that side completely soft, clingy, and almost obedient under your hands. Or so you hoped.

You snapped out of your haze when you felt Paige’s warm hands slowly slide off your skin, leaving goosebumps in their absence.

“Baby, I’m gonna go get me a Dirty Shirley,” she slurred, her voice playful as she slid in front of you. Her cheeks were flushed from heat and alcohol, blonde hair clinging to the side of her neck in soft waves.

“Paige,” you scolded, raising your brows as she turned on her heel away from you. Your voice was low and sharp. Your hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her body back toward you. “Haven’t you had enough, P? You can barely walk,” you said. Paige definitely was more of a lightweight.

She stumbled into your chest with a soft huff, catching herself with a grip on your waist, and looked down at you with that knowing little pout that always made your stomach churn.

“Pretty please?” she whined, dragging her hands down your arms in a featherlight touch, her fingers automatically intertwining with yours like it was instinct. “Last one. Promise.” She tilted her head, giving you those stupidly cute, big, glassy puppy eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pulse quickening, part irritation, part something warmer that had been simmering all night. She had no idea what she did to you when she got like this—needy and completely at your mercy.

“Fine,” you mumbled, your tone unamused.

Paige’s face lit up, her toothy smile blooming instantly. “Knew you’d say yes,” she teased.

“Yeah? Say that again and you’re not allowed.” You tightened your grip on her hands.

Paige gasped, immediately pleading. “No! I’m sor-”

“Go,” you cut her off.

She gleamed at that, slipping away before you could say another word. You shook your head, watching her every move as she drifted toward the bar. The crowd seemed to part for her like it always did, the orange lights catching on her hair and the curve of her bare shoulder. God, she was wearing your favorite outfit tonight that white top that showed off her toned arms, her pretty abs, her hips under those low rise black pants.

Your eyes stayed locked on her the sway of her hips, the way strangers glanced at her like she was a prize. Your stomach twisted with that familiar, possessive heat. Only you got to look at her like that.

She leaned against the bar for balance, hair spilling over her shoulder, cheeks flushed. You watched her wave the bartender over, flashing that perfect smile as she ordered.

And then, just like always, someone moved in.

A girl slid up beside her, looking just like you, which only infuriated you more. She leaned down, her mouth nearly brushing Paige’s ear, and your jaw clenched. You couldn’t hear a word over the music, but the way her fingers brushed Paige’s shoulder was enough to make heat curl low in your stomach. Paige didn’t move away. If anything, she giggled, tipping her head slightly to listen.

Of course she did.

You were already moving through the crowd before the next bass drop hit. Someone muttered when your shoulder bumped theirs, but all you could see was Paige.

Then, before you knew it, her elbow caught the base of a tall glass on the bar. Typical Paige.

The crash was instant shards skittering across the floor. Paige gasped and instinctively crouched, laughing it off as she reached for the pieces like a drunken idiot. “Oops…” Paige mumbled.

“Paige!” you snapped, shoving through the crowd. She froze halfway to the floor but still reached for a shard.

“Don’t touch that!”

Too late. She hissed, jerking her hand back with a whimper, a thin line of red blooming across her fingertip. Her big, glassy eyes shot up to yours, soft and startled.

The girl beside her reached out. “I can-”

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. You’d never be so rude, but alcohol just brought out a different you.

“…Ow,” Paige whimpered, oblivious to the tension, holding her hand out to you like you could fix everything. Her lip trembled, her eyes glossy, and all the noise of the bar faded under the rush of possessive heat in your chest.

You crouched down, wrapping an arm around her middle and pulling her up. She leaned into you, mumbling incoherently as you guided her away from the glass and through the many bodies, ignoring the stares.

You let your hold fall down to gripping her wrist, dragging her toward the back. Her steps were uneven, a soft stumble every few seconds, and each time she tripped, she let out a little whine that went straight to your chest.

“Slow down…” she slurred.

“You can keep up,” you said sharply, glancing back. Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and the moment your eyes met, she ducked her head, bashful despite the alcohol.

You found a shadowed corner near the back, half hidden by a jukebox and some old posters. Pressing her back against the wall earned a little yelp to leave her lips. You released her wrist only to catch her chin, tilting her face to yours, seeing her eyes wide and confused.

“Look at me,” you said softly.

She obeyed instantly, big glassy eyes locking onto yours. Her lip caught between her teeth like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“You’ve been driving me insane all night, you know that?” you murmured, the alcohol giving you every ounce of confidence. “Clinging on me, whining for drinks, letting everyone eye fuck you like you’re theirs. Leaning into that girl when you know who you belong to.”

Paige shook her head quickly, hair brushing your chin. “No,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m yours.” If only you knew Paige had orchestrated this entire night for this exact moment.

A low hum of satisfaction curled in your chest. Your hands slid to her waist. She melted, almost begging, her hips subtly leaning into you.

“That’s right, baby. Look how smart you are.”

You pressed into her, pinning her lightly against the wall. Her fingers clutched your shoulders, a needy whimper spilling from her lips. Her mouth opened like she wanted to speak, then shut again, eyes hazy with want.

“Nuh uh,” you murmured, grip tightening. “Spit it out. What is it? Use your words,” you said slowly.

She squirmed under your gaze, chest rising and falling. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper, raw and desperate.

“Show me I’m yours.”

That snapped something deep inside you.

Your hand grabbed the side of her face, your other hand yanking her hips, pushing her flush against you. You crashed your lips to hers, heated and hungry. Paige gasped, kissing you back, fingers tangling in your hair and tugging.

The kiss turned messy, teeth and all, until a soft whimper from her throat made you suddenly slow, savoring her. Tasting her. Your hands stayed firm on her, keeping her where you wanted, and she followed your lead without hesitation.

Paige’s lips parted, a soft sigh slipping past her lips. You didn’t waste the invitation, tongue brushing hers slow and deliberate. Paige tasted of strawberry chapstick, Dirty Shirley, and something purely her enough to make you throb.

She melted, pinned to the wall, her hands digging into your waist, then your hair, tugging until you groaned. You deepened the kiss, claiming every shuddering, soft sound she made.

When you pulled back, a slick string of spit connected your lips. Paige’s eyes were glazed, chest heaving like you’d stolen her air.

“Y/n…” she whispered. “You-”

You couldn’t contain yourself and swallowed her words with another rough kiss, your tongue sliding against hers. A muffled whine left her throat, her hips pressing closer instinctively.

“Gonna let me claim you in a room full of people?” you murmured, pulling away just barely.

Paige nodded eagerly, breathless.

“Words, baby,” you said, patting her thigh, stern enough to make her shiver. “Beg.”

Her voice was ragged, whiny. “Please. Please, please, pretty fucking please claim me,” Paige said without hesitation.

A slow, dangerous smile curved your lips. “Oh, you sweet thing,” you murmured, brushing her bottom lip. “If only you knew what you just got yourself into.”

Your lips met hers again, slower this time, then trailed to the corner of her mouth, dragging softly along her jaw and down to her neck. She whimpered, tipping her head back.

Your teeth sank into her skin just enough to make her yelp, and the sound went straight to your core. You soothed the bite with your tongue, then sucked hard enough to make her eyes roll back.

Her hands fisted in your shirt, knees wobbling.

“Mine,” you rasped.

She nodded weakly with a tiny whimper.

You turned your head, locking eyes with the girl hitting on Paige earlier. You knew she was there. She froze, caught. Without looking away, you reached for Paige’s jeans, fingers fiddling with her buttons.

The zipper sounded deafening. Your gaze returned to Paige’s flushed face. “This okay, sweet girl?”

“Yes.. please,” she begged. A slow smile spread across your lips as your eyes trailed down her body. Your fingertips brushed her stomach, barely there, making her tremble. When you reached the band of her boxers, you tugged lightly, then let the elastic snap back against her skin. She jolted with a shuddering gasp.

Your hands slipped lower, sliding into her boxers, and you couldn’t hold back your own sharp breath. “Oh, fuck…” you murmured, already drunk on her pussy. “Is this all for me?”

Paige whimpered, her head tipping back. You let two fingers glide between her folds, savoring every slick curve until you found her clit and circled it just right. Her soft moan sent a pulse through your body as her brows knit together, desperate eyes meeting yours. Paige began to rock her hips against your fingers, desperate and needy, making a deep chuckle slip from your throat. Man, who would’ve thought Paige Bueckers, the girl who could command any room, make every head turn with a single smirk, would be here… whimpering, begging, riding your fingers like she couldn’t get enough?

You exhaled a soft sigh of pleasure just from watching her come undone. “Such a needy little thing, huh?” you murmured, your voice low and taunting.

When you pulled away from her clit, she let out a frustrated puff of air. You only tsked softly before letting your fingers slide lower, pushing inside her with a slow, deliberate thrust. The tight heat of her walls made you moan under your breath as her body instinctively clenched around you. Warm slickness coated your fingers, gushing against your knuckles with every movement.

You glanced up and took her in. Her eyes fluttered shut, her teeth catching her lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

“None of that,” you said sharply, your free hand grabbing her jaw and tilting her head down until her eyes snapped open to meet yours. “I want to hear you… and so does she.”

Your head tilted toward the crowd. Sure enough, the girl was still watching, frozen and wide eyed. Paige followed your gaze, her head turning, and when her eyes locked with the girl’s, her breath caught, her pupils blown wide.

That was when you drove your fingers into her harder, faster an unrelenting rhythm that had her gasping. Her head fell back with a sharp, helpless moan.

“B-baby, please…” she managed to whimper, mouth falling open as she chased the feeling.

You quickened your pace, watching the way she started to crack, her hips rolling down to meet every thrust. Paige’s walls clenched greedily around your fingers, and the sound of your breath hitched, the wet drag of her pussy only spurring you on.

“That’s it,” you murmured, utterly transfixed by the sight of her losing control and herself.

Just as you felt her on the edge, you grabbed her jaw again and turned her face toward the girl. Paige’s eyes widened, gasping at the sudden force.

“W-what are you-”

She couldn’t finish. Her words replaced with a high, broken moan as your thumb found her clit, circling it with merciless precision.

“Cum for me, Paige,” you growled, your voice thick with nothing but command. “Let her watch you fall apart.”

Paige’s hips snapped, rolling against your fingers desperately. “Oh, fuck!” she cried, eyes locked on the girl as you worked her over. Her lip was caught so tight between her teeth you almost thought it would bleed.

And then she broke her body shuddering, riding her high, walls fluttering around your fingers. You felt her pussy gush, making you moan.

“There you go. Such a good girl for me.”

The girl in the crowd looked flushed, her cheeks blooming pink as her eyes darted away. You caught the subtle bob of her throat as she swallowed hard, and a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips.

“So good for me,” you purred.

When you turned back to Paige, the sight nearly made your chest ache with pride. She was completely wrecked hair messy, lips swollen, her chest rising and falling in uneven short breaths. Her pupils were blown wide, and that lazy, fucked out grin on her face was proof she was all yours.

Paige hummed weakly at your praise, and you couldn’t resist a low chuckle as your fingers began to circle her clit in a slow, deliberate tease. She jolted and let out a soft, broken whine, both hands flying to your wrist in a feeble attempt to stop you.

“No?” you asked, tilting your head, your tone dripping with mocking sweetness. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby.”

“S’… too much… please.” she whimpered, her grip tightening around your wrist, her thighs trembling from oversensitivity.

You let her suffer for just a moment longer before easing your fingers out of her, savoring the way her body sighed at the sudden emptiness. Your fingers trailed along her slick folds one last time, committing every curve and texture to memory before sliding free.

A low hum of satisfaction left you as you admired your hand your fingers glistening, coated in her sweet release. A grin spread across your face as you lifted them toward her lips, tapping lightly against her mouth.

“Open,” you commanded, your voice leaving no room for question.

Paige obeyed without hesitation, lips parting as a soft, needy sound escaped her. You dragged your coated fingers slowly across her tongue, and her eyes fluttered shut as she tasted herself, sucking gently, hollowing her cheeks.

The sight had your stomach tightening with a surge of heat. Without warning, you pushed your fingers deeper, pressing past her tongue until you felt the brief choke of her throat around them. Paige gagged softly, her eyes snapping open, glassy and submissive, as drool slicked her lip.

The sight alone could’ve undone you. Well, it almost did.

Your fingers slid out her mouth with a pop, it almost looking like she leaned forward wanting more. “Don’t worry, my girl. Wait til I get you home,” you mumbled, lightly patting her cheek. You leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent hit you instantly sweet cologne, and the faint tang of alcohol and sugar clinging to her skin. A sigh slipped from your lips as you let yourself savor her for just a heartbeat, your nose brushing along her jaw.

Paige’s fingers twitching like she wanted to grab you again. Instead, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers slowly, deliberately, letting your thumb trace circles against her knuckles. She followed without hesitation, her steps clumsy but eager as you tugged her gently toward the back exit.

“Let’s go,” you said softly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

The two of you stumbled out into the cool night, the noise of the bar fading away behind the slam of the heavy door. Paige pressed herself into your side, as you led her through the quiet empty streets. Her hands never left you, fingers brushing your hip, tracing the waistband of your jeans, occasionally sneaking up under your top for warmth or maybe just for you.

You couldn’t even remember every step of the walk; the world had narrowed down to her touches, her soft giggles, the heat of her body pressed against yours. Every time she moved into you, that same familiar fire sparking lower in your chest each time.

By the time you reached her dorm, Paige was practically draped across you, her lips brushing the skin on your shoulder as she fished for her keys. She handed them over with a little huff, her pout so adorable it made you want to ruin her all over again. Which you were, to be clear.

The moment the door clicked open, instinct took over. You pushed her inside, kicking the door shut with your heel, the sound echoing in the small dorm room. Paige barely had a second to gasp before her back hit the wood, your hand sliding up to cradle her jaw as your lips crashed onto hers.

She let out a soft, needy moan into your mouth, her fingers flying to your waist like she couldn’t hold on tight enough, tugging you to her. The kiss was messy, heated, all teeth and tongue and the faint taste of strawberry and sugar on her lips. Her body arched into yours desperately. You forced yourself to pull away as you both kicked your shoes off. You dragged her into her room, pushing her onto the bed, climbing on top of her, straddling her. Her lazy smile deepened as her hands slid to your hips, fingertips tracing little circles into your skin. You let your palms sprawl across her warm stomach, leaning down to press slow, teasing kisses along her jaw.

“Too damn pretty for your own good,” you murmured against her skin, the words buzzing against her neck.

Your fingers found the hem of her top, playing with it for a moment, and you glanced up, silently asking for permission. She gave a small nod, her eyes hazy and trusting. You peeled her top upward, letting your knuckles skim her soft skin, and she lifted her arms to help. The shirt was tossed somewhere behind you, forgotten.

You froze for just a second to admire her. Paige in a fitted black Nike sports bra, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. A grin tugged at your lips before you leaned down, kissing down her neck, her collarbone, and every inch of her chest, savoring the way she squirmed beneath the attention.

“Paige,” you whispered, looking up at her through your lashes.

She hummed in response, already breathless.

“Can I?” you asked, snapping the band of her sports bra lightly against her skin.

Her soft whimper was followed by a meek, “Yes.”

You grinned as you slowly peeled the bra up, shimmying her out of it. The moment the fabric left her body, your smile shifted into something darker, your eyes locked on her exposed chest. Her nipples hardened under the cool air, and your voice dropped to a low murmur.

“Oh, baby…”

Your hands rose instinctively, cupping her breasts and kneading them slowly, your thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. Paige’s breath hitched, and she let out a soft whine, her body writhing under your touch.

“Want… your mouth,” she mumbled, twirling a loose strand of your hair between her fingers.

You lifted a brow, pausing just long enough to make her squirm.

“Please,” she added, a desperate little whisper.

“There she is,” you teased, your voice like velvet.

You dipped down, wrapping your lips around one of her nipples, your tongue flicking against the sensitive bud while your free hand teased the other. Her fingers immediately buried in your hair, gripping tight as a shaky moan left her lips. She arched into your mouth, her back bowing slightly, seeking more.

You pulled back with a soft pop, letting your lips trace a wet, lazy path across her chest to the other breast. Your mouth closed over her other nipple, tongue swirling as you sucked gently. Paige’s fingers stayed tangled in your hair, holding you there like she never wanted you to leave.

Her soft sounds filled the room, and you could feel her thighs squeeze together beneath you as you worked her over, every flick of your tongue making her tremble. After a minute, you let your lips leave her breast, now kissing down her stomach, your tongue slowly dragging across her skin. Paige’s grip on your hair finally loosened, her arms falling above her head, fingers curling into the sheets as she let out a soft sigh. She was completely at your mercy now.

You pressed a lingering kiss just above the button of her jeans, looking up through your lashes. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and all she could do was nod, desperate and pliant under your gaze.

You didn’t waste another second. Your fingers popped the button, dragging the zipper down slowly, savoring the way her body squirmed in anticipation. You peeled the denim down her legs, letting your fingertips trail against her skin, and tossed the jeans somewhere behind you.

A satisfied hum slipped from your throat at the sight of her now, left only in a pair of snug black boxers that did nothing to hide the heat between her thighs.

“God…” you murmured, your voice low and warm, “look at you.”

You knelt between her legs, slowly parting them, and your own thighs pressed together instinctively at the sight of her. Paige shifted under your gaze, a blush blooming into her cheeks, with the neediness in her eyes.

“Look so pretty for me, angel,” you whispered, letting the reassurance sink in.

You bent down, letting your lips ghost along the smooth skin of her inner thigh, leaving a soft trail of kisses that grew slower, more deliberate, the closer you got to where she wanted you. A playful nibble made her twitch, and her soft, frustrated whine filled the air.

Before she could beg, your palm landed in a firm slap on the inside of her thigh, making her jolt.

“Patience,” you murmured, your voice firm but gentle, and she instantly went quiet.

Finally, you were level with her clothed cunt, her boxers damp with arousal. You pressed a feather light kiss against the wet fabric, and Paige let out a sharp little breath. Your nose brushed against her clit as you inhaled her scent, groaning softly into the fabric.

She couldn’t take it, her fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your head forward, trying to pull you closer.

You pulled back immediately, delivering a slap to her covered pussy.

Paige gasped, eyes wide, a blush creeping down to her neck.

“Uh-uh,” you warned softly, a smirk curling your lips.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you hooked your fingers into her waistband and dragged her boxers down her thighs. She instinctively snapped her legs closed, heat radiating from her core.

“Hey…” you cooed, voice reassuring and soft as your hands slid along her thighs, “don’t be shy. It’s just me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, her legs fell open again.

The sight stole your breath. Her slick folds glistened in the low light, her arousal pooling onto her inner thighs. A groan slipped out before you could stop it, your head tipping forward for a second as if the sight alone could knock you out.

“Fuck… Paige,” you muttered, eyes roaming over her body before meeting her gaze. “So fucking beautiful. How could you hide this from me all this time?”

She squirmed, blushing even harder under your dark stare.

You couldn’t tease her anymore. Not when your own desire coiled tight within you. You leaned down, lips brushing her soaked pussy in the faintest kiss. Her legs immediately spread wider, a wordless invitation, and your hands slipped under her knees to keep her open for you.

Your first slow lick traced every curve of her pussy, tasting her fully, and your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned against her. Paige sighed, her hips jerking with a stutter, already falling apart under your first touch.

When your lips wrapped around her clit, sucking softly, the sound that tore from her chest was almost sinful. She gripped the sheets, knuckles white, her moans filling the room. You hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue flick and swirl before lapping at her wetter, messier, each movement dragging a louder sound from her.

The wet sounds of her pussy and of your mouth on her and your own muffled groans filled the room, mixing with the soft creak of the bed as Paige’s hips trembled beneath you. You let your tongue trail lower, teasing the entrance of her slick heat, and she whined your name, thighs quivering.

Her voice broke into little incoherent sounds, her whole body shivering with pleasure. She was already gone.

You shook your head against her pussy, tongue working faster, greedier, desperate to taste every drop of her as she came undone. You let your tongue find her clit again, and you watched as Paige began to lose control of her body, her hips rocking, legs shaking, a moaning mess.

“Gonna- gonna cum! Please!” Paige begged, her voice breaking as her body trembled and arched under your mouth.

And really, who the hell were you to deny an angel like this the release she craved?

“Give it to me,” you mumbled against her soaked pussy, tongue working her relentlessly. “Be the good girl I know you can be…”

Paige’s fingers twisted tight in the sheets, knuckles white, and her hips snapped up with a loud, desperate cry of your name. Her release hit hard, hot and messy against your tongue as she gushed, and you swore you felt your eyes roll back, greedily lapping up every drop she had to give you.

She rode out the waves of her orgasm, hips jerking as her legs shook around your head. But the pleasure quickly became too much, her soft whines and shaky hands tried to push you away.

“I know, baby… I know,” you murmured, but your mouth lingered, savoring her, needing to taste her completely before you finally pulled back.

You kissed her throbbing, sensitive pussy softly, one last farewell, then dragged yourself up her body, chin and lips glistening with her cum.

The sight of her nearly undid you. Paige sprawled out beneath you, hair messy against the pillow, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed with bliss. Her legs were still trembling, and her pussy glistened, dripping with the evidence of her release.

You were soaked yourself, just from watching her come apart for you.

Sliding up to straddle her waist, you fisted a hand gently in the back of her hair, tilting her face up toward you. “Need you to see how sweet you taste,” you whispered, your voice low and warm.

Your lips claimed hers in a slow, deep kiss. Paige moaned into your mouth, tasting herself on your tongue, her hands finding your thighs as if she needed to hold onto something solid.

“Think you got another one in you?” you murmured against her lips, teasing.

Paige shook her head weakly, a soft whine escaping her as she tried to clamp her legs together.

“I think you do,” you said with a knowing smirk, watching her body betray her even in its sensitivity.

Her head shook again on the pillow, her lips pouting in protest.

“Please, baby? I wanna cum too…” you whispered, leaning down close to her ear. Your breath was hot against her skin as you brushed a stray strand of hair back and pressed a kiss under her jaw. “Need to feel my pussy against yours…”

Paige’s breath hitched hard, and her fingers fisted into your shirt, tugging insistently.

“Go ahead,” you murmured, giving her permission.

She wasted no time your top was stripped off in an instant, and her shaky hands went straight for your bra clasp. Her eyes flicked up to yours, that little spark of asking still there, even wrecked and needy.

“May I?” she asked, voice soft and reverent.

“Since you asked so nicely…” you said, smoothing your palm over the top of her head.

Her tongue peeked out at the corner of her mouth as she focused, and you couldn’t help but smile down at her. The clasp popped open, and your bra slid off your body, leaving you completely bare above her.

Paige gasped, her eyes darting from your breasts up to your face, awe and hunger swirling together. Her hands instinctively gripped your hips tighter, holding you like she might never let go.

Then, in a sudden rush, she grabbed your face and smashed her lips against yours, kissing you with a desperate passion, like if she stopped for even a second, you might disappear. Her mouth moved against yours, teeth clashing softly as her hands slid down your body, fumbling with the button of your jeans.

You let her take some control, shivering at the feeling of her fingers brushing against your stomach. The two of you worked in sync, hurried and impatient, until your pants were gone and you were left in nothing but your panties.

Paige let out a soft, needy moan at the sight of you, her hand immediately cupping your clothed cunt. Her lip caught between her teeth as she felt just how soaked you were.

A smirk played at your lips before you slipped off of her, plopping down beside her on the bed. Paige turned her head toward you, confused, until you patted your stomach.

“C’mon, baby. You didn’t think I was gonna miss the chance to watch you ride my pussy, did you?”

Paige whimpered, that submissive haze washing over her again as she crawled on top of you. You peeled off your panties, baring yourself completely to her. Paige’s mouth dropped as she took in your naked figure, eyes drinking in every curve.

You gave your hips a teasing little thrust to snap her out of her daze. Slowly, you opened your legs for her, your glistening pussy catching the soft light. Paige’s eyes went wide, and she reached out with trembling fingers to touch you.

You smacked her hand gently.

“Nuh-uh,” you chided softly. “This is about you.”

She gulped, uncertainty flickering across her face, but you only smiled and reached for her hips.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay. Just open your legs for me.”

Paige obeyed, leaning down until her legs were spread wide over you. The first brush of your soaked pussies together made both of you whine, your hips jerking instinctively at the delicious friction.

It was too much for Paige; she was already lost. Her hips began to rock almost immediately, desperate and messy. You threw your head back, your back arching off the bed as the sensation rolled through you. Your hands clamped down on her hips, guiding her movements, helping her find the perfect rhythm.

Paige’s hands slid up to toy with her own nipples, her back arching, her eyes locked on your face the entire time. You moaned her name, chest heaving, watching her ride your pussy with a hunger you’d been holding back all night.

“My best girl,” you breathed, voice breaking.

You could tell Paige wasn’t going to last, and honestly, neither were you. The slow burn of edging yourself all night just from watching her unravel had left you trembling under her.

“M’ not gonna last,” she cried, her voice high and broken, falling forward to brace herself with her hands on either side of your head. Her hair spilled forward around your face, soft and warm.

“I know, Paige,” you whispered, gripping her hips tighter. “Need you to cum with me.”

She whimpered, her hips stuttering as her clit rubbed perfectly against yours.

“Please, please, can’t hold it,” she cried, and that was when you felt it a warm tear falling onto your chest. Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh, fuck. She was crying. Pleasurable tears.

The sight sent you over the edge.

“I’m gonna cum, come on, baby, cum with me,” you urged, rocking her hips faster, chasing the high together.

Paige’s whole body shook as she broke apart, a loud, shattering cry of your name tearing from her throat. Her orgasm hit so hard she sobbed through it, and her words tumbled out without thought.

“Fuck. I love you,” she gasped, voice breaking.

The raw confession stole your breath. You gasped, staring up at her as your own orgasm crashed into you, your body clenching and shaking beneath her, riding the waves of pleasure until neither of you could move.

The room was filled with the sound of your shuddering breaths, wet skin, and the fading echoes of your moans. Paige finally collapsed against you, her chest pressed to yours, her breath warm and uneven against your ear.

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, still trembling, feeling your own slick drip against her.

Paige sniffled softly, and your instincts kicked in immediately. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight, your nails lightly scratching her back.

“Did so good for me,” you whispered against her temple, kissing the side of her head. “M’ so proud of you, my perfect girl.”

She stayed quiet for a long moment, just catching her breath, lazily kissing your neck between soft sniffles.

You finally pulled her up enough to see her face.

“Look at me,” you whispered, voice soft but firm.

Her bleary eyes met yours. “Hi…” she mumbled, shy now, cheeks pink.

Your lips curled into a small, warm smile. “Hi, pretty baby.”

“Legs hurt,” she whined softly, her voice rasping.

“I know,” you said, brushing your thumb along her cheek. “How’s a bubble bath sound?”

Her lips curved into a sleepy smile at that.

She pushed herself up, still straddling your waist, and glanced down between your bodies. Her thumb grazed your dripping cunt, and she popped it into her mouth with a soft moan at your taste.

You watched her with a fond smile, until you caught sight of her finger a thin red line across it.

The memory of the shattered glass from earlier came rushing back. You had been so worried about claiming Paige back, you had forgotten about her little cut. Your heart skipped.

“Oh, my poor baby… how could I forget?” you gasped, gently grabbing her hand and pulling her thumb from her mouth. Paige blinked in surprise, eyes wide.

You peppered soft kisses over her cut finger, murmuring against her skin.

Paige let out a soft hum at the attention.

“Let’s go fix my girl up,” you whispered, kissing her knuckle once more. “Need to kiss you all better.”

And this time, Paige only smiled shyly, letting you guide her off the bed, still trembling but safe in your arms. You led Paige carefully into the bathroom, her legs still slightly shaky. Sitting her down gently on the closed toilet lid, you turned to the tub, twisting the handles until warm water filled the bath. The soft hiss of the faucet and the rising steam filled the quiet room. You poured in the bubbles, watching them bloom and swell across the surface, the faint scent of vanilla and honey filling the air.

Once the bath was ready, you crouched down in front of her. She looked adorably drowsy, her hair messy around her flushed face. You took her injured hand, bringing her finger to your lips for a gentle kiss before leaning up to press another against her cheek. Paige gave you a sleepy smile, her eyes soft and full of trust.

You stood to grab the small first-aid kit from the cabinet above the mirror. Pulling out a single bandaid, you crouched down again, wrapping it carefully around her cut finger. Then you kissed the bandaged fingertip, letting your lips linger for a second.

“All better,” you said softly.

“Thank you…” Paige whispered, her voice heavy with exhaustion, almost like a child being tucked in after a long day.

You smiled, threading your fingers through hers as you stood. “C’mon, pretty girl.”

Guiding her carefully, you helped Paige step into the warm bath. She let out a soft sigh as the heat wrapped around her, bubbles clinging to her skin. Once she settled in, you slipped in behind her, the water lapping gently at your waist as you pulled her back against your chest.

A content hum left your throat as you felt her warm, soft skin against yours. Her head leaned back against your shoulder, and you let your hands wander lazily, cupping bubbles to wash over her body in slow, tender motions. Your lips brushed her shoulder in a gentle kiss, then trailed to the side of her neck.

Paige exhaled a soft, content sigh, melting against you completely, her muscles finally relaxing after the intensity of the night. The soft splashes of water and the faint smell of vanilla bubbles were the only sounds for a moment, peaceful and warm. Paige held onto your legs.

Breaking the quiet, you murmured against her damp skin, “For the record… I love you more.”